The Office
by Playing Gay Jim from IT
Summary: The discovery of mutual attraction, danger, and high strung emotion. JimXJohn.
1. The Office

_Author's note: Just let me say that 1) I don't usually write slash, but this has been in my head for a while and 2) This is probably going to really suck. But if you feel confident enough, go ahead and read it. BUT, if you do read it, don't forget to review, the button doesn't bite. _

_Thank you! That is all! Enjoy! _

John dozes in his chair behind his desk. It's quite a peaceful sight, his mouth is half open as it rests against his closed fist and his shoulders are slumped forward. His breathing is heavy, but quiet. The man leaning against his doorway doesn't want to disturb him. It's a pleasant sight watching someone sleep, especially if they're a peaceful sleeper like John is. The man in the doorway doesn't do anything but watch John sleep. And then finally to break the silence, never moving from the door he calls to the sleeper,

"Falling asleep are we?" The man's smooth Irish voice stirs John from his state of sleep and causes him to wake. Instantly alert he scans the room for the source of the voice, spotting the man at the door.

"Moriarty." He mutters under his breath. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jim steps into the room and leans against the wall across from John.

"I just wanted to chat. You can call me Jim you know, it's not like I'll murder you if you use my name." Jim smiles. "Sleeping well?" John ignores the question and glances toward the door. Jim follows his gaze and kicks the door shut before coming into the room fully.

"Who let you in?" John asks quietly. Jim offers a half smile before gesturing at his doctor's coat.

"It takes skill John." Jim purrs John's name, almost in a seductive manner before leaning against John's desk, facing the door rather than John. "The key is to blend in. Know how to turn invisible. How to hide in plain sight." Jim folds his arms and glances over his shoulder at John.

"There are people out there who need my help." To that Jim scoffs.

"People always need help John. And that help doesn't always come. In fact," Jim casually touches the desktop before continuing, "help rarely comes at all. And nothing you can do will change that." John frowns and leans back in his chair, an attempt to put more distance between himself and the consulting criminal.

"These people pay to be here."

"Should you really have to pay?" Jim asks, "Pay for help?"

"I don't have time for you. Get out." Jim smiles and pushes off the ground to sit on the desk.

"No time? And yet, you have time for a nap?" Jim grins, "I was standing at your door for ten minutes. John." He purrs. "Not getting enough sleep are we?" John shifts uncomfortably in his chair at the thought of Moriarty watching him sleep. He is quiet for a minute and then glances at his watch.

"I have an appointment. Get the hell off my desk and leave." Jim hops off the desk and moves to stand behind John's chair,

"Now you know as well as I do that you don't have an appointment for another hour. You're just trying to get rid of me." He leans over the back of John's chair and presses his mouth close to his ear, "Why?" John jumps, startled as Jim's smooth voice is suddenly much closer to his ear.

"I don't want you here." He says quickly, "I don't want you anywhere." He's nearly tripping over his words now, the thought of the consulting criminal so close gives him chills. Jim smiles and circles the chair, leaning against the desk facing John this time.

"Now John, relax. I'm not here to kill you." He puts his hands on John's cheeks, a look of true confusion on his face, and looks John in the eyes. "What I don't understand is why you're trying _so_ hard to get rid of me and yet," he touches his forehead to John's. John can feel Jim's breath on his lips, and surprisingly, it didn't disgust him as much as he thought it would. "You are doing nothing." John freezes in Jim's grip and he stares into his brown eyes. Suddenly he realizes how close they are and in one movement pushes Jim against the desk forcefully.

"Get out." He whispers fiercely in Jim's ear before backing up, "Now." He says. Jim smiles.

"What are you going to do if I don't?" He purrs the last word. "You can't call security on my John. I work here now. Or did you forget so soon?"

"You get out yourself," John grabs the front of Jim's jacket, "Or I throw you out." Jim grins.

"Now would that be out the window, or out the door?" He covers John's hands with his own, causing John to jump again. His hands are soft against John's and that's what catches him off guard. Jim strokes John's cheek with one of his hands, a look of tenderness crossing his face. "You're so tense I can smell it my dear." He drops his hand before John can swat it away and his features harden. "So predictable. That's just like him. You're so human. I suppose that's why Sherlock keeps you around, to remind him when to stop. He needs someone to help him, or he'd end up like me." John's eyes flash.

"Don't you dare compare him to you." He says dangerously before landing a fist in Jim's stomach. Jim doubles over in pain, air leaving his lungs. Jim starts to laugh in an out of breath kind of way before straightening up and smiling.

"You just don't like comparing us," His voice is smooth, but out of breath, "because you know how similar we are." Jim takes a step closer to John, who's fist is still clenched. John refuses to look at him. "If he had made a different choice, it would be him standing here instead of me. And we'd be sharing a flat instead of you and him." His nose is inches away from John's, and he blinks slowly, "And you know it." John's breath hitches as he thinks about the truth behind Jim's words.

"Sh-!" His words are cut off by Jim's lips on his. They are soft and warm, like his voice. And he can tell Jim's smiling. In retaliation he grab's John's neck, his nails digging into the flesh of Jim's neck. The kiss ends abruptly as Jim lets out a yelp. He pulls back and glares at John,

"That hurts."

"Does it?" John whispers angrily. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He lets Jim go, and he rubs the back of his neck before answering,

"Many things. But don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I saw your face. Surprise and elation. Don't even try to hide it John. I'm not stupid."

"Don't."

"What John?" John drops his arms to his side and relaxes his neck.

"Don't. Just don't. Don't treat me like a pawn. I'm not a pawn." As much as he hates to admit it, John would love another kiss. He internally scolds himself. What the hell is wrong with him? He's confused himself, his mind and his body are confused, and he doesn't know what to do about it.

"John." He looks up to see Jim standing before him looking hurt. He puts a thumb under John's chin and pulls him forward. John tries to pull away, but Jim secures his neck with a hand and presses his lips to John's, softly, sweetly, chastely. John closes his eyes, enjoying the moment. What the hell? His brain is exploding, he doesn't understand anything anymore, and it's not that teenage 'what the hell is wrong with me' feeling, it's the 'my world just turned upside down and I don't know what to do about it' feeling. The fingers on the back of John's neck start to stroke his hair. Jim breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to John's. "We were made for each other." John gives up on trying to make sense of the whole situation.

"What's wrong with me? What's happened?" To that, Jim smiles.

"I happened."

"What?" John asks, as confused as ever. Jim leans forward and kisses John's cheek, trailing kisses down his neck. "Jim?" John asks breathlessly.

"Hm?" Jim presses against John, gently biting John's ear. His fingers trace the buttons on John's shirt as he kisses him again. John swallows his words when he feels Jim's tongue trace the crease in his lips. He knows that he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he does, but doesn't know how to stop feeling the way he does. Jim moves from John's lips to his neck, gently biting it and sucking. "Was there something you wanted to say John?" Jim purrs, blowing gently on his neck. John shivers and instead of replying fiercely kisses Jim's lips, all the while wondering why it felt so good to be close, to breathe in this man. John can feel Jim's chuckle of surprise as he pulls him close. Jim unbuttons the top button of John's shirt, and moves to struggle with the second button between John's hungry kisses.

And then.

As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, John stops.

"You're my _enemy_! I'm fighting against you JIM! This can't…." He gestures around the two of them, "It just can't… Work. Can it?" Jim smiles and pecks John on the cheek.

"We'll finish this conversation another time, but right now, I've got to be somewhere." Jim buttons up John's shirt and brushes past him, and John grabs his arm as he walks by,

"What do I tell Sherlock?" Jim turns back and winks,

"Sarah?" Jim gently pries his arm out of John's grip. "I'm a very careful man. He won't find out." He smiles warmly before exiting the office, leaving John rumpled, and confused, in the middle of it.


	2. A Shot in the Dark

Careful. Jim had said he was a careful man and that Sherlock wouldn't find out. John shifts uncomfortably in his chair as Sherlock eyes him curiously.

"John." John knows that Sherlock wants him to spill. John also knows that if he wants to see Jim again, (which, despite what he had originally thought) he couldn't let Sherlock find out. Sherlock wouldn't let him leave the flat. He's far too protective for that. So he takes the safe route, the one he knows will only intrigue Sherlock more, but will also stop his questioning.

"Yes Sherlock?" Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Tch." He leans back in his seat and grabs his violin. "Never-mind." John holds back a sigh of relief, safe and easier route then trying to deny anything.

"Tea?" John asks as he stands up and heads for the kitchen.

"Hm."

"I take that as a no then." John replies as he busies himself with the kettle. His phone pings, letting him know he has a new message. He glances over his shoulder toward Sherlock before answering it, a smile spreading across his face when he sees that it's an unknown number. He opens the message. All it says is,

'Help.' He nearly drops his teacup, fear hitting his stomach like a freight train. He quickly types a reply.

'Where are you?'

'No idea. Sending a car around.' John swears under his breath and sets his teacup down.

"Sherlock I'm going out." Sherlock doesn't say anything, but plays his violin. "I'll be in later." Sherlock nods as John shuts the door behind him and clambers into the car.

'On my way. What's wrong? Are you hurt?'

'bin shut.' It takes John a moment to work out what it says properly. He hadn't known that seeing Jim so soon after their… meeting, at the clinic he'd be seeing him again. And not under the circumstances he had hoped either. The car stops outside of an abandoned warehouse and John races through the front doors.

"Jim?" He calls.

A weak, "Thank God." Comes from the far darkened corner.

"Jim?" John asks as he skirts toward the corner. When Jim finally comes into proper view John gasps. Blood is everywhere. "Where?" John asks, switching into doctor mode. Jim blinks slowly as he's slumped against the wall, moving his hand away from his side.

"They got me John."

"Who did?" John looks around the warehouse for anything he can use.

"There's a medical lab in the basement, but I can't walk John." Jim smiles weakly as John wraps his arms around Jim's form, lifting him into the air. "I'm going to get blood all over your shirt, and then we'll be found out." He smiles slightly. "It was a job that went wrong. Must have been a good shot. I wasn't even visible." John knows how much it hurts to be shot, and still Jim smiles. He'll never cease to amaze John. John moves Jim's hand as they mount the stairs and forces it away from his side.

"It looks like it went right through."

"Fantastic shot then." John looks down.

"Is that all you care about?" Jim shakes his head.

"That, and you. Why else would I text you John? I know that you're the only one that can help me now, and you're the only doctor that I actually trust me make me better."


	3. What Occurred in the Basement

John sets Jim down on the table, he barely lets out a groan as the cool metal chills his skin, his thin shirt not making much of a barrier.

"Christ that's cold." Jim murmurs.

"Stop complaining. I need to concentrate if I'm going to fix this Jim. Where are all your men? How did this even happen?"

"Oooooh. You're in doctor mode now." Jim offers a small smile. "I don't know if it's loss of blood, but I feel great!"

"Jim." John says sternly, and Jim groans.

"Oh for the love of- Look, we were doing a job that I had to oversee, so I told Sebastian to leave as soon as we had made the drop. We made the drop and Sebastian left with the rest of them. They came back when they heard the shot and found me, much like you did. I told them to back off. You're the only one I trust to take care of me John. I made them go get you and leave." John nods as he cuts open Jim's shirt.

"Move your hands. I can't fix it if you're covering it up." Jim obliges, and hisses as John pokes at it. "Oh hush." John scolds before reaching for the black bag placed beside the table. He roots through it until he finds what he is looking for. "Here, take these. They should help." He shoves the pills into Jim's bloody hand.

"Have you got any water?" Jim asks hoarsely as he shoves the pills into this mouth. He swallows them and falls back against the table again. "Are you going to make me better?" He hopes this question will get answered.

"I can try. You might still have to go to the hospital." John replies and Jim frowns.

"I'm not going to a hospital." John sighs and cleans the wound.

"There isn't much I can do Jim."

"Please!" Jim's pleas echo off the wall. "Try, please try. I am not going to a blooming hospital." John frowns.

"I can try." He roots through the bag again. "Jim."

"God. What John?"

"I- I can't. You need to get to a hospital. I don't have the stuff. What about the clinic? I could take you to the clinic…" Jim moans loudly as John picks him up.

"Put me down. I can't go- Please. John." Jim struggles weakly and exhausts himself, relaxing into John's arms.

"Is the car still here?"

"Yes."

"Good." Jim presses himself into John.

"Thank you." John doesn't say anything as he puts Jim in the back seat, giving the driver directions to the clinic. He lays Jim's head on his lap as he leans back in the seat, playing with Jim's hair. Jim smiles in an off-hand kind of way and closes his eyes. "Thank you John." John leans down and kisses Jim on the forehead.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I hate hospitals you know. I hate them."

"I'm sorry." John offers a sympathetic smile.

"Mm." Jim closes his eyes. John frowns and grips Jim's hand in his own.

"Hang in there." He whispers and kisses his forehead again. "I'm going to save you." Jim smiles.

"I know."

"What am I going to tell Sherlock?"

"You got called into work, and there was a bloody patient."

"Would that work?"

"And if it doesn't, avoid his questions. You're good at that." John smiles. Jim's breathing is laboured, and John knows he doesn't have much time. He doesn't know how long Jim sat in the warehouse, too proud to contact him. He lost a lot of blood though. And that's bad enough. Jim slips into unconsciousness, and his hand grows limp in John's grasp.

"I'm sorry Jim." He murmurs to deaf ears and strokes Jim's hair.

_Author's Note: This chapter is short, and sweet. Next chapter will open with Jim in the hospital. Just because I don't know how to deal with gunshot wounds. Reviews are love. So don't forget to review. Because I love it. Thank you all! Much love! _


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